


You, you only, exist.

by Glump



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 13:58:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18692923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glump/pseuds/Glump
Summary: Lucifer has always been a generous lover, fulfilling any and all desires that his many conquests moan into open mouthed kisses. No one ever asks about his own wants, that’s not what they agreed upon - down on the dancefloor when he first beckoned them towards him with a dangerous toothy smile.So far, they have all left; some have even returned to steal a second piece of him, or a third. He took it all in stride. Lucifer doesn’t really think about that part of the deal.Lucifer didn’t really think about that part, not until now.





	You, you only, exist.

He gives up a little piece of himself every time. They take it without ever asking for permission and until now, he hasn’t complained. He sees them leave with it, sees his something slowly disappearing behind closing elevator doors and blown kisses or satisfied smiles.   
Lucifer has always been a generous lover, fulfilling any and all desires that his many conquests moan into open mouthed kisses. No one ever asks about his own wants, that’s not what they agreed upon - down on the dancefloor when he first beckoned them towards him with a dangerous toothy smile.   
So far, they have all left; some have even returned to steal a second piece of him, or a third. He took it all in stride. Lucifer doesn’t really think about that part of the deal.   
Lucifer didn’t really think about that part, not until now.   
She had him fooled for a while, back when she stepped into his life after bullets and glass and rage over Delilah’s murder had fallen over him. He thought she was going to be just another face, another body to warm his bed for a few hours, until she would eventually leave.   
But then she did something extraordinary and if asked about it now, Lucifer isn’t even able to exactly say what it was that made her so special all of a sudden but over and over again in the smallest and grandest of ways she convinced him that something about her would be haunting his thoughts far longer than any other lover ever could.   
Chloe Decker is tender, soft and pliable around her daughter, the little urchin. She is tough as nails around Dan, behavior shaped by endless fights over missing bedtimes and school appointments and morning drop-offs. She is dominant in her job, the way she holds herself around suspects or colleagues, always wary to be belittled over her previous attempt at an acting career or the sheer fact she is a woman.   
Chloe Decker is extraordinary, if just for the fact that she resists Lucifer’s abundance of charm and wit every single day. He knows the reason for that one but that didn’t make it any less part of her. He knows that now.   
Chloe Decker never asks for anything from him. Sure, she asks for his honesty all the time, but she always gives back her own in exchange. She asks, maybe he phrased that one wrongly, but she always gives back more than he can take.   
It’s days, weeks, almost a month into their honest to Dad relationship until she breaks her vow of taking it at his pace and asks about having sex.   
It’s not as if sex used to be a big deal to Lucifer. But somehow, it’s all different with her. He doesn’t want to show her that side of him. She’s seen every other side at this point, literally, but he knows that sex with her will be different in the way all her kisses and touches and words resonate differently within him.   
They reach deeper, he feels them sink through his skin.   
It’s so vulnerable, this thing they have. They don’t tell people about it.   
Dan knows, and disapproves. Dr. Martin knows. Maze knows, mostly just because Maze seems to know everything that happens around LA. And of course Trixie knows, too.   
Everyone else lives outside of the little bubble Lucifer and Chloe have created for themselves. It feels like a bruise, raw. No need to stab it and make it hurt.   
And sex feels too much like stabbing an almost faded bruise, angering skin that has almost quieted down already. He’s scared of what it will do to them.   
Chloe is patient with him. She does wonder, though. She doesn’t understand that he’s scared of this aspect of their relationship when it usually comes so easy to him. She doesn`t understand what he fears.   
So Lucifer tries to explain, tries to tell her between morning coffee and afternoon wine that it’s different, it’s big and meaningful and he doesn’t do big and meaningful, not like this. He promises to think about it.   
And he does.   
Dr. Linda asks him to confront his fears and takes him through scenario after scenario of worst case to best case to not-even-worth-the-mention case. And it’s easy to think about sex with the Detective. But actually doing it?   
No matter how much they talk about it, it doesn’t seem to get easier to initiate.   
Another month passes. A month of kisses and touches and wine and coffee and cases and secrecy. 

They’re sitting at her desk, Chloe buried between sheets of paperwork while Lucifer fiddles with his almost empty flask when she asks him to pass her the stapler. And it hits him.   
It’s so easy, really. He loves her. He would give her everything, already does, to a certain point, so why not give her the rest, too?   
He gave his life and blood and skin and stapler, even his monogamy. He can give her everything else, too.   
Lucifer doesn’t tell her about his revelation, not until she gets ready to wave him goodbye for the night. And then he spills the last of his trepidations and she kisses him and asks for absolutely nothing.   
He takes her home that night. Trixie has already been put to bed by the babysitter and Chloe sits with her for a little while, kisses her forehead and tucks her in a little tighter before leaving.   
They go upstairs, she unclasps her bra and slides off her rumpled blouse before slipping into sleepwear. He leaves his suit jacket downstairs and unbuttons his shirt to leave on a chair in the corner of her bedroom. His slacks end up neatly folded next to it.   
They get into bed and he’s nervous, not scared anymore, but close enough. She joins him and slides her body into his embrace.   
They lie there for a while.   
She tells him there’s no rush, really, she can wait until he’s ready. She loves him. He loves her, too.   
They take their time; sweet kisses turn into more and their bodies crash against each other as if the ocean itself speaks through them. She teaches him how to love, how to give himself up to her. And he obeys.   
He’s not used to being so defenseless. He’s vulnerable around her, now more than ever. His eyes are big and dark, soaking in everything she does in wonder. They’re black holes, driving her deeper until she dissolves around him. It’s quiet here   
Lucifer doesn’t speak, can’t speak, until they’re side by side again, much later, in her arms. And even when he does speak, it is only to mutter her name. Chloe.   
She smiles at him and sighs and closes her eyes. He’s unable to find his words quite yet but something in him yearns to speak, to explain how everything she does holds so much meaning. Lucifer remembers a man he met once.   
“He wasn’t the nicest chap, Rilke, you know. He was quite taken with fascism in the end. But he had a gift for words. He said once, about whom I’m not quite sure, To you I belong, however time may wear me away. From you to you I go commanded. Du nur, einzig du bist.”

He gives up a little piece of himself every time. They take it without ever asking for permission and until now, he hasn’t complained. He sees them leave with it, sees his something slowly disappearing behind closing elevator doors and blown kisses or satisfied smiles.   
Not her, though. When he leaves, he feels full to bursting, packed with love and hope for the future. She kisses him goodbye, tells him she’ll see him in the morning.   
She never asks anything of him he’s not unwilling to surrender. And she always gives back.

**Author's Note:**

> The title, as well as the quote Lucifer tells Chloe, is taken from a Rainer Maria Rilke poem titled You, You only, Exist (Original title Du nur, einzig du bist). I'm always excited to hear your constructive criticism about my work. And also, aren't you just so excited for season four?!! I can't wait!!
> 
> You, you only, exist.  
> We pass away, till at last,  
> our passing is so immense  
> that you arise: beautiful moment,  
> in all your suddenness,  
> arising in love, or enchanted  
> in the contraction of work.
> 
> To you I belong, however time may  
> wear me away. From you to you  
> I go commanded. In between  
> the garland is hanging in chance; but if you  
> take it up and up and up: look:  
> all becomes festival!


End file.
